


in the details

by chillwhiskey (payneclinic)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Dex is a demon, M/M, brief homophobia mention, brief murder mention (of a background character who tbh deserves it)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/payneclinic/pseuds/chillwhiskey
Summary: He turns the laptop screen towards Derek, displaying one of the more interesting links Google had provided for 'demon'. The background of the homepage is fire, and it has a huge animation of a gnarly-looking demon blowing fire out of its mouth and wielding a sword. “That’s what I am,” he laughs, pointing at the screen, “Although I must say, this is pretty insulting. As you can see, I am much better-looking than whatever the fuck that thing is. Also that is some fucking weak ass shit as far as fire-breathing goes. And why the fuck would I need a sword? I’m a fucking demon,” he huffs, then shakes his head. “Would you consider this cultural appropriation?” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Derek’s answer.“How did – I – you’re – is being a demon a culture?” Derek blurts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer that I know next to nothing about any religious or cultural portrayals of demons, so if you're really into demons or something you probably will not like this story, in which I make a demon play hockey and study computer science.
> 
> Title is from the expression "the devil's in the details."
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @chillwhiskey.

Derek doesn’t _mean_ to summon a demon, but, as with most situations in his life, his intentions mean jack shit. _God,_ it sucks, though, because it’s not like he was trying to, like, sell his soul or something. He was just trying to do a damn Creative Writing assignment. “Over break, I want you to write about something supernatural,” Mr. Peters had said, “And I don’t want to see any Twilight or Harry Potter spin-offs. Be original.” Unlike most of his teachers, Derek actually _likes_ Mr. Peters, enough to respect his request to _be original._ So, like, vampires and wizards and werewolves and shit were out of the question. Fairies seemed overdone, unicorns were impractical, goblins were gross, and angels – well, angels seemed _boring_. He didn’t want a boring story any more than he wanted an unoriginal one, so it felt logical that he would write about the _opposite_ of angels. So, demons.

He’s in his room when it happens, actually doing his assignment instead of just fucking around on the internet. He wants this to be good, and believable – as believable as a story about fucking demons gets – so he starts with some research. He’s about four pages into his Google search of ‘how to summon demons,’ pretty pissed off at the utter inconsistency of the internet’s so-called “demon experts,” when suddenly there’s a guy sitting on his desk next to his laptop.

Derek topples backwards in his desk chair, slamming into the floor hard. The guy chuckles, grabbing Derek’s laptop and sitting it down on his lap, legs swinging like a damn toddler. Derek opens his mouth to scream – his moms aren’t home, he’s pretty sure, but maybe a neighbor would hear him?

“Don’t fucking scream, you dumbass. It’s not going to help you, it’ll just piss me off,” the guy grumbles, eyes trained on the laptop. Derek closes his mouth, and instead decides to sit up from his place on the floor and size the guy up, see if he can take him. He looks to be about Derek’s height and age. He seems to have a similar build to Derek, if a little slimmer and lankier. His hair is red and he’s got freckles smattered across his cheeks and his eyes are fucking yellow. Derek’s never seen eyes like that before. For some reason, the eyes are what scares Derek. They make him feel off-kilter, like this dude is something dangerous, something Derek can’t fight.

“Who are you?” Derek asks, because he at least wants to know who this dude who fucking materialized out of fucking nowhere onto his fucking desk is.

“Nope, wrong first question,” the guy snorts, “Try a different interrogative.”

“Uh, _what_ are you?”

“There you go, pretty boy,” he says, finally looking up from the computer and at Derek. He turns the laptop screen towards Derek, displaying one of the more interesting links Google had provided. The background of the homepage is fire, and it has a huge animation of a gnarly-looking demon blowing fire out of its mouth and wielding a sword. “That’s what I am,” he laughs, pointing at the screen, “Although I must say, this is pretty insulting. As you can see, I am much better-looking than whatever the fuck that thing is. Also that is some fucking weak ass shit as far as fire-breathing goes. And why the fuck would I need a sword? I’m a fucking demon,” he huffs, then shakes his head. “Would you consider this cultural appropriation?” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Derek’s answer.

“How did – I – you’re – is being a demon a culture?” Derek blurts.

“I dunno, I’d say so,” he shrugs, turning the laptop back around and typing something for a minute. “Google says a culture is ‘the values, beliefs, underlying assumptions, attitudes, and behaviors shared by a group of people.’ I guess if you don’t consider us _people_ , then we can’t be a culture, but that all depends on, like, where you stand ethically. What constitutes a _person_? Because, you know, anything you can do, I can do… better. Except, like, have a soul. Which is bogus and unnecessary, anyway.”

“Souls are real?” Derek asks.

The guy tips his head to the side, assessing, and smiles patronizingly when he says, “You ask a lot of weird questions, pretty boy.”

“Derek,” Derek says, because if he’s going to have a damn demon in his room then the demon’s at least going to know his name.

“I know your name, dumbass,” he scoffs.

“Liked it better when I was ‘pretty boy,’” Derek grumbles.

“Sorry, _Derek_ ,” he sneers, “To answer your question: souls are real, but they don’t work the way you probably think they do, and I really don’t care to explain to you how they _do_ work, so that’s all you’re getting.”

“Um, okay,” Derek shrugs. “So, uh, why are you here, then? And, um, what’s your name?”

“Because you summoned me, obviously. And my name is William.”

“William doesn’t sound like a demon name. And I definitely didn’t summon you.”

“And yet, here I am,” William sighs. “The internet lies to you, Derek. You don’t actually have to _try_ to summon a demon. You don’t even have to _believe_ in demons. Just open your mind a tiny, tiny bit – Google ‘how to summon a demon’, for example – and we’ll find a way to wiggle our way in.”

“Are you just in my mind, then?” Derek asks, because that’s kind of what it sounds like. Maybe this is just some weird lucid dreaming shit.

In lieu of answering, William hops off the desk and kicks Derek in the stomach. It’s not terribly hard – nothing Derek hasn’t done to one of his friends when they’re being jackasses – but it’s right on top of a hockey bruise he got last week. Derek gets the point – this pain definitely isn’t just in his head.

“ _Jesus_ , okay,” he wheezes, clutching his side. “So, can you, like, leave now? I’ve gotta finish this paper.”

“Do you seriously think that asking me to leave will rid you of me?” William asks, eyebrows raised.

“Um, yeah? I didn’t mean to summon you, and I don’t want to, like, sell my soul or anything, so there’s no reason for you to be here.”

“ _Sell your soul_ , what the fuck are they teaching you at this school?” He groans. “Whatever, I don’t care. That’s not how this relationship works, pretty boy.”

“How does it work, then?”

“Think of it as a game of Truth or Dare, but there’s only dare, and I’m the only one who gets to make the dares, and if you don’t do the dares, you die,” William explains, tone uninterested and removed. “Oh, and also it never ends, unless I get bored with you.”

“What the fuck? No, I don’t want that,” Derek says immediately. He doesn’t think these _dares_ would be particularly pleasant, no way in hell is he agreeing to this.

“Aw, it’s cute that you think you have a choice,” William coos. “I’m going to have a lot of fun with you, pretty boy.”

William leans down, pressing his hand hard into the exact spot on Derek’s midsection where he had landed the kick. It’s searing pain, and it makes Derek lose his breath and close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them back up, William is gone.

“What the fuck,” he asks the room at large. No one answers. He sighs, gets up and picks his chair up off the floor, and settles down to write his paper on fucking unicorns.

 

* * *

 

 

William doesn’t come back for three days, and if Derek didn’t still have a tender spot on his stomach he might believe it was all just some weird hallucination. He’s starting to think maybe William is already bored of him, and he’s off the hook, but then he walks downstairs into his kitchen and sees William sitting on his kitchen island, eating an apple.

“You eat?” He asks.

“Eh, sometimes” William shrugs, “Does nothing for me, energy-wise, but I like the taste.”

William doesn’t say anything else, so Derek grabs a Gatorade out of his fridge and hoists himself up on the counter opposite of William. Derek can’t help but stare at him as he eats the apple, wondering how in the fuck this kid is a demon. He looks like any other dude Derek would pass in the street – flannel over a t-shirt, jeans cuffed over his scuffed-up converse. Not exactly a _prince of Hell_ aesthetic.

“If you’re done checking me out,” William sighs, as if he’s put-out. Derek’s eyes snap back up to his face as he finishes with, “I’ve got a job for you.”

Derek’s caught up staring at William’s eyes, so he can’t control it when he blurts out, “A job?”

“C’mon, pretty boy, we talked about this,” William reminds him, rolling his eyes. “Truth or Dare, remember?”

“Right, yeah,” Derek nods, trying not to focus on the curling anxiety in his gut, anticipating what kind of _job_ William wants him to do.

“Good boy. Alright, here’s the deal: you know Alex Bolet?” Nursey nods, Alex is a year under him at Andover, and he lives a few houses down from Nursey in New York. “Good. Sleep with him tonight.”

“What?”

“Fuck Alex Bolet. Tonight. And it’s gotta be here. He has to spend the night here.”

“And I have to fuck him?” Derek squeaks out.

“I mean, I guess you don’t _have_ to fuck him,” William concedes, “You just need to get him to spend the night in this house instead of his own. How you go about that is your choice, but FYI: the kid has a major crush on you, so fucking him is going to be your best bet.”

“Oh, god, okay. I can do that. Jesus Christ, you couldn’t have just told me to get him to spend the night here?”

William just points at himself and says, “Demon,” like that should explain everything. It kind of does, Derek figures. “Get it done, pretty boy,” William orders, and with that he’s gone.

 

Derek doesn’t end up fucking Alex Bolet, because like fuck is he going to have sex with someone because a fucking demon told him to. That’s, like, fucked up on so many levels. He just texts him _parents r gone wanna come play xbox and get wasted_ and gets Alex so loaded up on his moms’ wine that he _has_ to sleep in the guest room instead of going back home to face the wrath of his super uptight parents. There’s probably some issues with that method, too, but it’s nothing Derek hasn’t done before, so.

 

When Derek wakes up, there’s a weight on his lungs, and he can’t _breathe_. He opens his eyes to find William smiling at him, sitting right on Derek’s chest.

“Morning, pretty boy,” William chirps gleefully, “Congrats on a job well done. You live to see another day in this shitty, shitty world. Now go make our boy Alex some pancakes and send him off to his home, your work here is done for now.” William pats a little too roughly at Derek’s face and then he’s gone again, and Derek can finally breathe.

Derek doesn’t know if making Alex pancakes is actually an order, but he does it anyway, just in case. The kid’s pretty hungover, he could use some pancakes. There’s a brief, fleeting moment, when Alex is pulling his shoes on to leave, when Derek thinks he maybe shouldn’t let him go. Like, maybe William set up something to explode when Alex gets in the house, or something like that. The moment of hesitation is squashed down by a stronger feeling, though, something in his gut telling him that Alex will be fine. Derek waves to Alex as he walks out the door, hoping this feeling he has is right.

“Do you really think I’m going to kill that kid?” Derek hears suddenly over his shoulder, making him jump.

“You’re a demon,” he shrugs, turning around to William.

“Demon’s don’t just fucking kill people, dumbass,” William scoffs.

“You told me you would kill me if I don’t do your little jobs,” Derek points out.

“Nope,” William shakes his head condescendingly, “I said you _die_ if you don’t do my jobs.”

“How is that different?”

“Well, me killing you would be much better, actually. I’d at least try to be quick about it. You dying as a result of not doing a job I gave you, on the other hand…” He winces. “That’d be pretty gruesome.”

Derek’s almost afraid to ask, but he can’t help it. “How gruesome?”

William steps towards him, backing him into the wall as he asks, “Ever heard of hellhounds?”

Derek shivers, not sure if it’s from fear or anticipation or proximity to William. He gets it together enough to say, “Okay, but isn’t you summoning hellhounds just you killing me in another way?”

“You think I would actually ever summon _hell hounds_?” He asks, incredulous. He lets out a lengthy sigh, then, sounding forlorn when he whines, “And I was holding out hope that you were more than just a pretty face,” he shakes his head before continuing, “That’s not how it works. I don’t have a choice. You summon me, I come. You don’t do the jobs I assign you, I go, and hellhounds come. I have no fucking control over that shit.”

“Oh,” Derek breathes. William is still so close, and they’re not touching or anything, but Derek can practically feel himself being pressed into the wall. “Um, I go back to school tomorrow, so, like, do I need to give you the address of my dormitory, or?”

This sets William off, and soon he’s doubled over in laughter. “The address of your dormitory, holy fuck, that’s hilarious,” he chuckles. There’s still a smile on his face when he takes another half step closer to Derek, sliding a hand back into his hair to yank at it. Derek’s scalp is alight with pinpricks of pain, but there’s also sparks shooting down his spine. Derek’s breath hitches when William tugs again and leans in to whisper, “I’ll find you wherever you go, pretty boy.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of Derek’s senior year goes by pretty smoothly, demonic possession ( _Is he being possessed? He’s not quite sure_ ) aside. After spring break, there’s only two more months in the school year, and William only visits him three times – once to make him start a fight with Jeremy Basset, and another to make him “trip” and spill his lunch tray all over Colin Strum. Jeremy and Colin are both major dickwads, so Derek doesn’t actually feel bad about carrying out these little jobs. The third time William comes, it’s the day before graduation, and he doesn’t have a job for Derek. 

“So, you don’t have anything for me to do?” Derek asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, I can’t want to just visit with my favorite pretty boy?” William grins, pushing Derek down onto his couch. Normally, Derek probably would have been happy to see William. He’s quickly realizing that William may just be the only interesting person Derek knows. With his sharp sense of humor and quick wit, he can entertain Derek more in his fifteen-minute visits than most of his classmates have been able to in his four years at Andover. Today, though, Derek’s not feeling up to sparring with William. He’d just gotten off the phone with his mom, telling him that there’s some sort of storm outside London that means they can’t fly out, so they won’t make it to his graduation tomorrow. He gets it, of course, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to climb into bed and maybe cry a little.

“Come _on_ , Derek,” William wheedles, pinching him hard in the thigh, “I’m your guest. Entertain me.”

“Is that a _job_?” Derek snarks back, more than a little irritable.

In a flash, Derek is flat on his back under William, with William’s forearm pressed hard into his neck. “I like that you’ve got a bit of bite, pretty boy, but you should know better than to test me,” he growls. Derek can breathe, but it’s kind of a struggle, and he’s embarrassed to find that he’s _into it_. Possibly _too_ into it. He hopes William doesn’t catch the way he’s getting hard in his pants. The way William raises his eyebrows at him and presses down a little harder suggests that he notices, but he doesn’t say anything as he slides off Derek and moves to sit beside him. Derek pulls himself up, still staring straight at William. William stares right back, clearly waiting for Derek to look away first in some weird display of dominance. Derek gives in, averting his eyes and coughing a bit.

“Um, we could watch a movie,” Derek suggests. William snorts, but he doesn’t turn it down, so Derek gets up and puts in _Goon_.

William, surprisingly, loves it. Or at least Derek _thinks_ William loves it. He spends half the time snickering quietly to himself and the other half looking curiously over at Derek. He doesn’t turn it off or leave, though, so he must like it at least a little.

Derek doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he jolts awake, head on William’s shoulder. “You’re still here?” He mumbles.

Derek’s still half-asleep, but he’s pretty sure he hears William mutter, “ _Someone_ ’s gotta be here for you, pretty boy.”

Derek drifts off again after that. He wakes up alone, tucked into his bed, with a sticky note on his forehead that says, ‘ _Don’t trip on the stage, dumbass_.’ He rolls his eyes and gets ready for graduation.

He _does_ trip on the stage, and he might be crazy, but he could swear he hears William laughing loudly in the audience.

 

* * *

 

 

Summer is just as boring as it always is, but it’s mercifully shorter because he has to go to Samwell early for hockey. He doesn’t see William over his short summer, and again he’s fooled into believing William is done with him. The thought of that curls in his gut, feels a little more like hollowness than it does relief. William’s a demon, Derek _gets_ that, but he was still… something. Something Derek can’t quite place. He finds himself thinking about William constantly, not sure if it’s some subconscious effort to summon him back or not. He’s just… he’s just _bored_ , is all. Bored and alone. Once he gets to Samwell, he’ll stop thinking about William.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t stop thinking about William, but that’s not actually his fault, since William is _literally standing right in front of him_.

“What the fuck are you – ” Derek starts, but he’s cut off by one of the upperclassman, announcing the start of the ‘Taddy Tour.’

William just winks at him, following the others into the dilapidated house and leaving Derek standing outside, dumbstruck.

“Little overwhelmed?” He hears from behind him. He turns to find the tall blonde junior – Holster, he’s pretty sure, smiling at him.

“No, man, it’s chill. Pretty cool that you guys get your own house,” he says, plastering a smile on his face.

“Yeah, dude, it’s pretty badass,” Holster laughs. “You’re Derek Nurse, right? D-man?” He asks. When Derek nods, he says, “We’re gonna call you Nursey,” and casually throws an arm around Derek’s shoulders, pulling him into the house.

“Holtzy! Who’s your frog?” Another junior, Ransom, asks when they walk in.

“This is Nursey, a baby d-man. Who’s yours?” Holster asks, gesturing towards William, who’s standing next to Ransom.

“This little beaut is Dex, also a baby d-man!” Ransom practically shouts.

“I have a good feeling about these two,” Holster says, removing his arm from Derek’s shoulders to fist-bump Ransom, “Who knows? Maybe they’ll be the second-best d-pair.”

Ransom and Holster end up wandering off after that to chat with the few other freshmen, so Derek takes the opportunity to pull William into a hallway.

“What the fuck are you doing? Why does everyone think you’re on the team?”

“Because I _am_ on the team,” William responds casually.

“ _How_?” Derek hisses. He’s pretty damn sure Samwell doesn’t recruit literal demons.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here for the foreseeable future, which means that your new job is to play it fucking cool – got it, pretty boy?” He brings a hand up to grip tight around Derek’s wrist, enough that he can imagine the delicate bones there grinding together.

“Got it,” Derek nods.

“Good boy,” William grins wickedly, patting Derek’s cheek a little too hard. Derek tries to pull himself together as he follows William out of the hallway and into the kitchen where everyone else is. He’s supposed to be meeting the guys and getting acclimated to the school, not worrying about some fucking otherworldly _creature_. William grabs a slice of one of the _thirteen_ pies sitting on the table and fucking winks at him as he eats it, and Derek hates the way it sends tingles down his spine.

 

* * *

 

 

Murray and Hall pair him up with William – Dex, now – on the ice, because of course they do. And it’s – fuck, it’s good. It’s really good. Some of the best hockey Derek’s played in his life. In short bursts. They get maybe five minutes out of every twenty on the ice that’s just insane – passes connecting, covering each other’s backs, keeping the puck in the zone like it’s easy. _Too easy_. Derek’s pretty sure Dex is using _somethin_ g… some kind of demon magic, maybe. That’s when the other fifteen minutes of ice time comes, when Derek starts thinking too much and frustrates himself and Dex both and things get explosive in a bad way. 

They don’t even make it ten minutes into practice today before Hall throws them out, a new record. Derek slams into the locker room behind Dex, fuming.

“Get your fucking shit together, Nurse, Jesus. We were doing awesome out there for all of two minutes before you flipped,” Dex huffs behind him. Derek turns on him so fast he thinks he might have pulled something.

“Why were we doing so awesome, Dex?” He asks, not bothering to hide the desperate edge to his voice.

“Because I’m a fucking awesome defenseman and you don’t get in my way?” Dex leers.

“Why are you a good defenseman? Why, Dex? Because last time I checked, people from Literal Hell weren’t supposed to be good at hockey!”

He finds himself pushed back into his stall, one of Dex’s hands covering his mouth while the other grips firmly at his hair.

“You wanna scream that a little louder, pretty boy?” Dex snarls. It makes Derek’s breath stutter in his chest. Dex hasn’t called him pretty boy since that first day at Samwell two weeks ago. “I’m not using fucking magic or _powers_ or any other bullshit you’re thinking of, got it? I’m actually a good fucking hockey player.”

He removes his hand from Derek’s face so Derek can ask, “ _How_?”

“Fucking – we’re not getting into this here. Change out,” he orders. Derek complies, quickly unlacing his skates and stripping his pads off so he can throw on his sweats. Dex is already ready by the time Derek stands up, and Derek’s forced to play catch-up as Dex walks out the door ahead of him, not bothering to wait.

Dex is quiet the whole walk to his dorm, and Derek’s surprised to find that he doesn’t like it. He thinks he might actually prefer Dex arguing with him and pushing him around to Dex’s silence. Once they get to the door, Dex wastes no time keying in and pushing Derek inside, shoving him down onto his futon.

“Okay, if we’re doing this, I’m only doing it once, and I’m not repeating myself, understand?” He waits for Derek’s nod before continuing, “How do you think demons become demons?”

“Uh, you were like an angel, right? And then god, like, cast you out of heaven?”

“ _Cast me out of heaven_ , what the fuck,” Dex murmurs. “No. Not even a little bit. I was a human. Like, completely human. Not a terrible person or anything. But I did something dumb and quote-unquote _evil_ , and then I died. Which got me to what you guys call ‘hell.’ That in and of itself isn’t enough to warrant me becoming a demon, though. The big guy down there – you guys call him Satan – picked me. He gave me instructions and a couple tricks to use and set me loose.”

“I have, like, so many questions,” Derek says.

“Pretty boy has questions, who would’ve guessed it?” Dex snorts.

He wants to start with the obvious ones – What evil thing did Dex do? How did he die? Why was he picked? – but he figures it’ll be easier to start off small, so he asks, “When did you die?”

“Two years ago,” Dex answers, and that is _not_ what Derek was expecting.

“Oh, shit, so you’re only like – ”

“Twenty years old, technically, yeah,” Dex nods.

“And you played hockey?”

“Yep. First defensive pair for a team that won state back-to-back. I was getting scouted, probably would’ve ended up somewhere pretty good, too. Big Ten, even.”

“Damn,” Derek curses.

“Mhm,” Dex hums, “Anything else?”

“Um, I don’t know if I should… Like, if you don’t want to answer that’s cool, obviously – ”

“I killed someone, if you’re wondering what got me in hell,” he interrupts coolly.

“Oh,” Derek breathes. He wonders if he should be more afraid of Dex now. He wonders why he’s not.

“He deserved to die, though, if that’s going to help you sleep at night,” Dex shrugs, “Fucking piece of shit homophobe couldn’t deal with having a gay son. Thought he could beat the homo out.” That’s _definitely_ not what Derek was expecting.

He tries not to let himself blurt out something stupid, but apparently he can’t control his own fucking mouth because the next thing out of it is, “Your dad?”

“My boyfriend’s.”

“Oh, shit, I’m – ”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Dex cuts him off, “Anyway, I killed him. Made it look enough like suicide to convince the authorities. Sealed my place in hell. When I was driving home it was raining, and I was so keyed up and jittery and still crying. Crashed into a telephone pole, died on impact.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Yup.”

“And your boyfriend?”

“Going to UChicago, majoring in business, has a steady boyfriend that treats him right. He’s gonna be fine.” He sounds genuinely happy for the dude, which Derek can’t quite comprehend.

“And that’s – you’re cool with that?” Derek asks incredulously.

“Of course. I loved him, but we were never end-game, really. Just high school stuff. Sucks that I had to die over it, but you know…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Okay, so you kill him, you die, you go to hell, and then you get picked to be a demon? Why?”

“I’m not actually sure,” Dex shakes his head, “I think it was a combination of how good of a job I did covering up the murder and the fact that my first words when I got into hell were ‘wonder if I’m here for the gay thing or the homicide thing.’ The big guy rewards skill and humor.”

“So now what? You’re a demon, okay. What do you _do_? Like, what’s your job?”

“I guess technically I’m supposed to persuade people to turn away from the good side. That or make people’s lives suck. I guess that’s one and the same, though,” he answers. “Basically I’m supposed to do bad things, and sometimes I make other people do bad things for me.”

“So why are you possessing _me_?” Derek asks, the question he’s been wondering from the first damn day.

“Don’t feel special, pretty boy,” Dex smirks, “I don’t get to choose.”

The questions burst out of Derek then. “Okay, but why are you here? Like, at Samwell? And playing hockey? Also, why do I feel like you haven’t actually made me do anything that bad?” He doesn’t know which question it is – maybe it’s all of them – but the flood of questions makes Dex’s face sour.

“Okay, story time’s over,” he says with finality. Derek doesn’t dare argue. He doesn’t say anything as Dex goes to the door and swings it open, just gets up and leaves.

 

* * *

 

 

Things are objectively better after that. Derek starts exponentially less fights with Dex. He and Dex actually play kick-ass hockey. The upperclassmen are happy. Murray and Hall are happy. Their goalie, Chowder, who is starting to become one of Derek’s best friends, is happy. Dex seems to be happy.

At least, when he’s not screaming at his computer. Derek doesn’t get why Dex decided to major in Computer Science, especially when it’s not like he’s going to have to worry about getting a job after graduation or anything. Derek asked him, once, why he would choose a major where he would be killing himself over commas instead of something fun. Dex had just smirked and said _devil’s in the details, pretty boy_.

Dex still teases him like that from time to time, but for the most part he plays the part of hockey bro. He’s becoming friends with Chowder just like Derek is. They’re becoming a trio _, The Frogs_. There’s a group chat and everything.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re about three months into school when Derek realizes that Dex hasn’t given him any jobs since they’ve been here. He’s studying with Dex at the kitchen table in the Haus, and he knows this is not the time or the place to bring it up, but he can’t help himself.

“Am I the only person you’re, uh, giving jobs to?” He blurts. He half-expects Dex to kick him under the table or tell him to shut up or something. Dex surprises him, though, bursting out in laughter.

“Are you jealous, Nursey?” He grins. Derek sputters for a second, but Dex cuts him off before he can actually form a real word, “Don’t worry, pretty boy, you’re the only one.”

“I’m not jealous,” Derek huffs. “I was just wondering why you haven’t given me any _jobs_ since you’ve been here.”

Dex raises an eyebrow at him, sounding perplexed when he asks, “Do you _want_ more jobs?”

“No, no, I just – what are you _doing_ here, Dex?”

For a half-second, Derek thinks Dex is actually going to answer him, but then Ransom and Holster are crashing into the kitchen and the moment is gone.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time winter break rolls around, Dex still hasn’t given him any jobs, and some days Derek manages to convince himself that Dex is just a normal teammate. He knows it’s weird, but it seems like the more time Dex spends at Samwell, the softer he gets. He helps Bitty in the kitchen, he comforts Chowder after losses, and Derek is pretty sure Dex was the one who helped Bitty take care of him when he was sick. It’s one of those days today, when Dex is just like any other hockey bro, walking back from practice with Derek and playfully shoving him off the sidewalk. The illusion is shattered, though, when Dex tugs at his sleeve and says, “Got a request for you, pretty boy.”

 _A request_. Dex has never worded it like that. Derek decides not to question it, though, just nods.

“Let me crash at your place for break?” It’s a genuine question, not an order, and it nearly puts Derek on his ass. He does trip a little, but Dex’s hand reaches out to grab his shoulder and steady him.

He knows it’s not a _job_ , and he doesn’t _have_ to do it, but he still doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Oh, uh, yeah dude, sure, of course.”

Dex looks like that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. His head tilts to the side and he laughs a little, snorting, “You continue to surprise me, pretty boy.”

“Don’t plan on a big Christmas or anything, though. My moms probably won’t even be home on the twenty fifth,” Derek warns.

“I’m a demon, Nursey,” Dex reminds him, eyebrows raised. Derek can’t do anything but laugh at that.

 

* * *

 

 

He puts off telling his moms that Dex will be coming home with him, mostly because he expects them to be gone for most of break. When they’ve only got two days before they leave and Derek’s moms still haven’t announced that they won’t be home for break, Derek decides it’s probably time to tell them. His moms are thrilled that he’s bringing a friend home, but he severely underestimates how _nosy_ they can be. He has to make up Dex’s backstory on the fly – he’s a foster kid who bounced through the system but never found a permanent home, so he doesn’t have anywhere to go for holidays – but they believe it easily enough.

Lardo drops them off at the train station, and they spend the whole ride to New York catching up on _Shameless_. Derek’s planning to take an Uber from the train station home, but his moms surprise them both by picking them up. It’s really nice, actually. They even have a sign that says “ _Our Baby_ ” on it, because they’re nothing if not embarrassingly adorable.

“That’s cute,” Dex whispers, and when Derek looks up his smile is genuine.

His moms smother him in hugs and kisses, and move on to Dex without hesitation. “Momma, Ammi,” Derek groans, “You haven’t even been _introduced_ and you’re already smothering him.”

“He’s your friend, baby, we love him already,” his momma smiles.

 _I brought a demon home and my moms love him_ , Derek thinks hysterically. Dex winks at him over his moms’ shoulders.

Dex is a fucking perfect houseguest. He compliments the way his moms decorated the apartment, he offers to do the dishes after dinner, and he even breaks out the ‘ma’am’ when he’s saying please and thank you. It’s been three hours, and Derek’s moms are already charmed off their asses.

Around the fourth time Derek’s ammi praises Dex for being such a “nice young boy,” Derek snaps and texts him, _Don’t lie are you using demon magic to charm my moms_.

Dex is smirking at him from across the table when he sends back, _Natural talent, pretty boy. Parents love me._

That night, long after Derek’s moms have gone to bed, he’s nodding off on the couch, sprawled out next to Dex. They’re watching another episode of Shameless, and Derek can’t keep his eyes open, but Dex looks wide awake.

“Do you even sleep?” He asks, squinting his eyes at him.

Dex shrugs. “I don’t have to, but I can. Kind of like eating.”

“So that time you punched me when I woke you up on the bus was just you being a dick, then,” Derek laughs.

“Just because I don’t _have_ to sleep doesn’t mean I don’t prefer it to being awake,” he explains. It makes Derek sad in a weird kind of way.

“Do you miss your family?” Derek asks, a complete nonsequitor.

“Every day,” Dex sighs. “They’re okay, though. It was just Mom and Dad and Charlie. They’re gonna adopt soon. Not – not to, like, replace me or anything, but Charlie’s out of the house now and they already had, like, money set aside for me, so. It’ll be good for them, and for the kid, too.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re a demon?” Derek questions.

“Don’t do that,” Dex snaps, all softness suddenly gone from both his voice and his posture.

“Do what?”

“ _Humanize_ me. I’m a fucking demon, Derek, okay?” With that he’s up and out of the room, heading for the guest bedroom Derek’s moms made up for him.

“I’m starting to think that being a demon doesn’t mean you’re a bad person,” Derek whispers into the dark. He hits himself in the head for saying it, it sounds so fucking dumb.

 

He sleeps restlessly, continually tossing and turning and trying to process what the fuck is going on in his brain. He can’t stop thinking about Dex. Dex, who’s sleeping just down the hall. Dex, who his moms love. Dex, who helps Chowder with his homework. Dex, who bakes with Bitty. Dex, who just wants his family to be happy. Dex, who makes him laugh and calls him _pretty boy_ and always looks out for him on the ice. Dex, who killed someone to protect someone he loved. Dex, who is a _demon_.

From where Nursey’s standing, the good far outweighs the bad. That’s the point, though, he supposes. It’s from where _Nursey’s_ standing. He doesn’t know the whole story. Not by a long shot.

He’s never been a particularly patient person, and he’s always been just a little too curious for his own good. That’s probably why he’s sneaking down the hall into Dex’s room, after they’d had a fight, knowing full well what Dex could do to him. He hovers outside the door for a minute, debating on knocking or just walking in, when it swings open.

“What are the bad things you’ve done as a demon?” He blurts.

“Fucking shit, Nurse, have some goddamn discretion,” Dex hisses, pulling him in the room.

“You said your job as a demon is to turn people away from the good side. Fuck up their lives. How do you do that?” He can hear the desperation in his voice.

“Honestly, I think the only person I’ve actually fucked up is you,” Dex sighs. “I haven’t actually done anything, okay? Aside from the shit I made you pull. And I didn’t even do _that_ properly. I thought I could do it. You’re this arrogant, snotty, rich boy, right? It would be so easy to fuck with you, get you to fuck with other people. And I started off okay, roughed you up a bit, but it wasn’t – I was supposed to beat the shit out of you that first night, but I couldn’t. I was supposed to get you to break Alex Bolet’s heart that first night, but all you had to do was question it _once_ and I fucking let you off the hook. I was going to go to his place and start some fight between his parents so they would separate, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would have felt if _my_ parents ever separated, and I wimped out. Then I couldn’t bring myself to come back, but I knew I had to, or I’d be assigned to someone else, so I just had you fuck with those assholes at Andover in the most minor way possible. God, then you were alone on your graduation night and I should’ve given you a job but you were so _sad_ and I couldn’t make myself do it. I took one look at you and all I could think was that maybe I could distract you enough to make you forget you were sad. I’m not – I haven’t done my job, and they’re starting to notice.”

The confession hits him hard in the chest, but the last sentence makes fear curl in his stomach. “They’re starting to notice?” Derek repeats. “Who’s _they_?”

“The ones above me. The ones that keep track. I don’t – I’ve never seen them, but they’re the ones that send us out… and the ones that send the hellhounds,” he shudders as he says the last part, and it shakes Derek up. He’s seen Dex be cocky, frustrated, angry, even happy, but never _scared_. It’s jarring.

“What happens if you don’t do your job?” Derek whispers, scared to say it any louder, like _they_ can hear him. Who knows, maybe they can.

“It – uh – it wouldn’t be good,” Dex chokes. He seems so small, now, so vulnerable in a way Derek’s never seen him.

Maybe seeing him like that is what makes Derek say, “So do it, Dex. Give me a job. A _real_ job.”

“Don’t fucking do that,” Dex bites out, “Don’t take one for the team, here. I’m a demon. _I’m a demon_ , and you’re too fucking good to sacrifice yourself for me. You’re so good, and you’re doing so well. You’ve got your moms, and the team, and you’re _happy_. Don’t fuck that up.”

“You’re a part of that, though, Dex,” Derek argues, then admits, for the first time, what he’s been thinking since Dex’s visit on graduation, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’ll stay for as long as I can,” Dex sighs, “I’ve been low key, no magic or tricks or anything since I got to Samwell. That’s buying me time.”

It all clicks for Derek, then, “You’re at Samwell because you’re hiding from them.”

Dex nods. “It was risky, using so much magic to get into the school and on the hockey team, but it’s worked out so far, and I haven’t used any since.”

“ _Shit_ , Dex,” Derek breathes, “How can I get you out of this?”

Dex huffs out a laugh, wet and humorless. He brings his hand up to cup Derek’s cheek, thumb stroking his cheekbone as he says, “You can’t save me, pretty boy.”

It makes Derek’s chest ache, thinking about losing Dex and not being able to do anything about it. It’s not fair. It’s bullshit, actually. Derek makes up his mind then and there that he’s going to get Dex out of it, heaven or hell or Satan be damned. He takes a half-step forward, closing the distance between them, and gets his hands on Dex’s shoulders to pull him in. Dex’s hand moves to the back of Derek’s neck when he kisses him, and it’s almost a surprise that Dex is using it to keep him there rather than pull him away. It’s soft and sweet, the way Dex pushes into it, bringing his other hand up to slide into Derek’s hair.

There’s a sound from down the hall, and they both spring away. There’s a second of silence, where Derek’s not even sure if they’re breathing, and then Derek can’t help but laugh out an exhale. Dex laughs with him, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Go to bed, Nursey,” he grins.

Derek leans in to steal another quick kiss before he sneaks back down the hall into his own room.

 

 

Derek wakes up at five the next morning, goes straight to his desk, and pulls out his laptop. He pulls up Google and stares at it for a whole minute, wondering what in the hell he should be looking for.

The door creaking open startles him, but Dex doesn’t say anything as he slips through the entry and hops up on Derek’s desk next to his laptop. Dex looks between the screen and Derek once, a sad sort of smile on his face. Derek circles his fingers around Dex’s ankle, the skin warm and soft.

“I told you I’m getting you out of this,” he murmurs.

“And I told you that you can’t save me,” Dex sighs, “But I have a feeling you’re going to try anyway.”

Derek gets a hand in Dex’s t-shirt to pull him down into a kiss, in lieu of answering. Derek can practically hear Dex rolling his eyes at him, but the way he nips at Derek’s bottom lip is still playful.

“I like this a lot more than you making me fall back in my chair and then kicking me in the stomach,” Derek laughs, but Dex’s eyes go from soft to sharp.

He reaches out to tilt Derek’s chin up so he’s looking him in the eyes when he says, “I’m sorry. About that. About… all of it.”

“It’s not your fault, Dex,” Derek shrugs.

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t shitty to you. It doesn’t make it okay for anyone to treat you like that.”

“You’re right, but I forgive you, okay?” Dex averts his eyes, so Derek repeats, “ _Okay_?”

Dex lets out a hard exhale, but his voice doesn’t waver when he says, “Yeah, okay.”

The next two hours spent on Google are futile, but Derek can’t exactly call them a waste when Dex spends the whole time carding a hand through his hair and leaning down to press sweet, short kisses to Derek’s mouth. It feels almost domestic, like Derek’s working from home and Dex is there to distract him. It’s the worst kind of tease, a glimpse at a future that _could_ be, but only if Derek can figure out how to get Dex out of this. Dex pulls him away from the computer eventually, muttering about _ruining his eyes_.

Derek’s moms are sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee when they come down, and Derek doesn’t miss the way both of their eyes flicker down to his hand in Dex’s. He silently begs them not to bring it up, and for once in his life they both decide not to embarrass him. He drops Dex’s hand to get them both cups of coffee and a slice of the banana bread on the counter, but he hooks his ankle around Dex’s under the table once he sits down.

 

Later, when Dex is in the shower and Derek is lounging in the living room with his moms, they absolutely gush over Dex. Derek tries not to bask in the new relationship glow too much, but he can’t help but be proud that his moms love Dex so much. It’s not until his momma starts making plans to invite Dex over for spring break that Derek has to remind himself that Dex might not still be here by spring break. He’s not discouraged, though. This only makes him more determined to find a way to keep Dex.

He _will_ find a way to keep Dex.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Christmas rolls around, Derek thinks it’s safe to say that he and his moms are firmly in love with Dex. He has as many presents under the tree as anyone, and not even _half_ of them are from Derek.

“Look at that, Poindexter,” Derek teases, nudging Dex’s side, “Santa must’ve known you’re spending Christmas here this year.”

Dex waits until Derek takes a sip of coffee to lean over and whisper, “Santa is real, you know.” The glint in Dex’s eye as Derek sputters and chokes on the coffee is beautiful, so Derek doesn’t hit him _too_ hard when he laughs and says, “Just kidding.”

Opening presents involves a lot of Derek blinking back tears at the sight of Dex thanking his moms so genuinely for every sweater or pair of socks they got for him. It also involves a few tears as he opens the beautiful leather-bound journal Dex somehow managed to acquire, wrap, and smuggle under the tree without him knowing. He feels a little silly, then, giving Dex his present – a copy of the movie _Goon_ and the laptop he knows Dex has been eyeing – but Dex leans over to kiss Derek when he opens it, so it’s probably okay.

 

His moms fly out the next day, and it’s never easy saying goodbye to them, but at least they were home for Christmas this year. When he says as much to Dex, he gets pulled into a hug so fierce it feels like Dex may never let go. They do separate eventually, but Derek only lets Dex lean back a few inches before he’s darting in for a kiss. The knowledge that they’re home alone hits him around the time his hands start wandering down towards Dex’s ass. They haven’t gotten past make outs and some particularly enthusiastic groping, too scared to go much further with both of Derek’s moms always just down the hall. Derek starts pulling Dex backwards towards the couch, somehow managing to make it there without breaking anything. He maneuvers them both onto the couch, him laid out on his back and Dex hovering over him.

“Damn, you’re pushy,” Dex laughs, situating himself so that there’s a little bit of space between them, which is pretty much the exact opposite of what Derek wants.

“Dex, c’mon,” Nursey whines, gripping at Dex’s hips to try and pull him down.

“Derek, we can’t,” Dex sighs.

“What?” Derek asks, moving so that they’re sitting next to each other on the couch. “Why not?”

“Because my control’s not that strong,” Dex mumbles, hand scratching at the back of his neck.

“Your control? What does that mean?”

“I’m scared I might… give you orders.” Dex’s voice is so low Derek has to strain to hear him.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’m into that,” Derek responds happily, leaning in to kiss Dex again.

Dex ducks out of it though, saying, “No – it’s not – I mean, like, _orders_ orders. I’ve been really careful to keep from slipping up, but I don’t trust myself, uh, like this.”

“Oh,” Derek says, finally understanding. Dex is quiet, so Derek just leans over and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, grinning like a sleazeball as he says, “Guess that’s more motivation to figure this thing out, then.”

“You’re insufferable,” Dex groans, but Derek sees the smile he can’t quite hide.

Derek just winks at him, hopping off the couch to go grab his laptop before settling back down next to Dex.

“More Googling?” Dex huffs, clearly already exasperated by Derek’s so-far fruitless attempts at finding a solution to their problem. Derek just nods, but this time, instead of typing _how to turn a demon back into a human_ into the search bar, he tries _supernatural bookstores new york._

Dex quirks an eyebrow at him, so Derek explains, “In the movies, these bookstores are always run by some, like, witch or something that can help the protagonist with their problem.”

“And movies are always right,” Dex nods sagely.

“Shut up, it’s worth a shot,” he mumbles, shoving at Dex’s shoulder. “Aha!” He exclaims, “Look at that, there are two within walking distance of here! We can go tomorrow.”

“Field trip, woo,” Dex monotones, with all the enthusiasm that Derek typically manages for morning practices. _Whatever_ , he thinks, _Dex can pout all he wants_. Derek is still going to save his dumb ass, whether he likes it or not.

 

* * *

 

 

The first shop is about a ten-minute walk away, so they bundle up in coats and scarves and Dex whines until Derek pulls him into a Starbucks halfway there and buys him something with far more sugar than Dex will ever admit to liking. Dex is decidedly less moody the rest of the way there, even reaching out to hold Derek’s hand as they walk.

Dex’s mood doesn’t even sour as they walk into the tiny shop. He keeps sending little amused glances at Derek as they browse through the books. Derek notes that roughly 85 percent of them are about werewolves and/or vampires. Not a promising start.

The teenager working the cash register clearly has no idea what Derek is talking about when he asks for books on demons. Derek asks if she has a boss that might have a little bit more information, but the boss turns out to be some middle-aged mom who apparently got a little too into _Twilight_ and decided to run a whole shop dedicated to the genre. She smiles sweetly at them both and gently suggests some book about gay werewolves. Dex looks way too happy with himself as he immediately goes and buys the damn thing.

“I’d call that an unqualified success,” Dex grins as Derek pulls him out of the shop. Derek levels him with a flat look rather than replying, tugging him in the direction of the next bookstore.

Derek knows this bookstore is the real deal for two reasons. The first is that the lady behind the counter is, like, 80 years old, with silver hair and olive skin, wearing some kind of shawl that makes her look vaguely witch-like. The second is that the second they enter, the lady takes one look at Dex and shrinks back, muttering something that sounds like some kind of Italian – or maybe Latin, Derek really can’t tell – prayer under her breath.

“Hell yeah,” Derek whispers to Dex, then turns to the lady and says, “So, we need some help.”

“You bring a demon in my shop, then you ask for _help_?” She practically shouts. Her accent is thick and unmistakably Italian.

“Uh, yeah, he’s the one that needs the help,” Derek shrugs, then adds, “He’s peaceful,” for good measure.

“The demon is _peaceful_ and needs help,” the lady snorts, “I have seen it all.”

She takes them in for a second, then, eyes scanning them both. Derek knows the exact moment she realizes that they’re holding hands, because her expression softens as she says, “ _Ah, amore_ ,” and Derek doesn’t know a lot of Italian, but he knows that one.

“Yep,” he nods towards their joined hands, “So will you help us?”

The woman laughs, then, high and loud, and for a second Derek thinks she’s going to turn them away, but she ushers them both into the back, pushing them down onto a couch and bustling off to “ _make some tea for the guests_.”

The tea is totally kick-ass, and, as it turns out, so is Sonia. She’s an ex-Catholic nun who sort of fell into the supernatural when _something_ – she doesn’t say what, and Derek doesn’t ask – happened to her that made her leave her faith, the convent, “and all rational thinking, apparently,” she jokes. She makes Dex recount his story, and by the end of it Derek can practically see the way she’s mentally adopting him as her demon grandchild or something.

“ _Piccolo_ ,” she sighs, “You sweet, darling child.” Dex’s face has turned completely pink at this point.

“I need to get him out of this,” Derek states firmly.

“That… will not be simple,” she says wearily.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Derek promises, eyes locked on Dex. Dex doesn’t look up from where he’s staring at the floor, but he does squeeze Derek’s hand.

“ _L’amore vince sempre_ ,” Sonia smiles, then translates, “Love conquers all.”

Derek hopes she’s right.

Sonia leaves to grab something from the front, and Dex looks up at Derek.

“If it’s dangerous to you in any way we’re not doing it, understand?”

“Dex – ”

“I’m not budging on this,” Dex interrupts, “If it’s dangerous to you in any way, we are not doing it.”

Derek just nods, but it seems to satisfy Dex enough not to repeat himself. When Sonia comes back in, she’s got a pen, paper, and reading glasses. She asks Dex to go through his story again, stopping him so she can take notes and ask questions every so often. By the time Dex gets through the whole story again and all her questions, it’s dark outside.

“Go home,” Sonia insists, “I will parse through this, and pull some books that may be of assistance. Tomorrow we will go through them.”

Derek wants to argue, wants to stay here until they figure this thing out, but Dex is already pulling out his phone to call them an Uber, so he doesn’t say anything.

 

 

That night, wrapped up in Dex’s arms, Derek has one of the worst nightmares he’s ever experienced. He’s standing alone, and Dex is about a hundred feet ahead of him. He’s chained up and writhing in pain, calling out to Derek for help, _screaming_. Derek’s trying to get to him, but it feels like he’s running through molasses. He tries to yell out to Dex, but his voice is gone. He’s completely helpless, standing there watching Dex scream and cry and unable to answer.

He’s crying when he wakes up, fat tears running down his face and soaking into his pillow. Dex is there, though, shushing him softly and pulling him in. Dex doesn’t ask what he dreamt about, and Derek doesn’t tell him, just shakes through his sobs in Dex’s embrace until he’s finally calm enough to go back to sleep. He clutches a little tighter at Dex as he nods off, hoping that in some way that will stave off the nightmares.

Dex is already up when Derek wakes up for the second time, softly running his fingers through Derek’s hair. He lets out a sigh, pulling the covers tighter around them and moving in closer to Dex. He didn’t have the nightmare again, but he still feels unsettled.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Dex asks.

Derek’s answer is an almost automatic, “Nope.”

Dex doesn’t push it, just keeps holding Derek until Derek finally works up the energy to roll out of bed.

They go to breakfast at a diner around the corner from Derek’s house, and Derek spends half an hour playing footsie with Dex under the table and stealing bites of hashbrowns off his plate. This is what Derek wants with Dex – he wants breakfasts and footsie and holding hands and never worrying if Dex will be taken from him.

Sonia greets them both with a wide smile and cheek kisses, which Derek takes as a good sign. Surely she’s thought of something, if she’s in such a good mood. That’s not exactly the case, though, which he figures out when she ushers them into the back room that is practically overflowing with “potentially helpful” books.

“Potentially?” He questions.

She gives him a consoling smile when she says, “As far as I know, this has never been done before.  The answer may not be easy to find.”

“What _is_ the answer?” Dex asks. “I mean, I’m not – you can’t make me human again, can you?”

“I’m not sure,” Sonia admits, “But we will never know until we try, _piccolo_. We will hope for the best.”

Derek spends the next three hours parsing through books with varying levels of sketchiness and drinking what feels like a gallon of Sonia’s tea. Dex is curled up next to him on the couch, under his own pile of books, and Sonia is across the room with all the non-English books. Dex’s spirits were high enough when they began, but Derek can practically feel them dropping with every page Dex turns. Derek wishes he knew what to say, wishes he could fix everything right now, wishes things were different. But he doesn’t, and he can’t, and they’re not, so he leans over and presses a kiss to Dex’s cheek, because if nothing else, he can remind Dex that he’s _here_.

About an hour or so later, Sonia makes them all take a break so she can cook them some truly killer pasta dish for lunch. She has Dex chopping tomatoes for the sauce and Derek tossing together a salad as she bustles around the kitchen and sings softly under her breath. Derek’s glad he wasn’t given a task with a knife, because he keeps getting distracted looking over at Dex. He’s concentrating on the tomatoes, but he looks oddly relaxed, face soft and open. He only looks up once the tomatoes are diced, and he smiles a little shyly when he catches Derek’s eye. Derek winks at him, just to see if Dex blushes, and he’s not disappointed.

When they finally sit down to eat, Sonia declares that there will be “no supernatural talk at the table.” Instead, she asks them about school and friends and hockey, once they tell her that they play. It feels like a real family meal, despite the fact that they’ve only known Sonia for a day. She has this maternal presence that reminds Derek of his moms and makes him feel safe. He wonders, not for the first time today, if Sonia has some supernatural powers herself.

Sonia kicks them out after another three hours, telling them to go home and rest. Derek argues, but Sonia levels him with one look and says, “Would you rather miss the answer today because you were too worn out or go home and rest and find the answer tomorrow?”

Their walk home is quiet, and Derek can’t help but feel a little defeated. It’s worse when he realizes that Dex must be feeling that way, too. Derek pulls him into the diner on a whim, hoping some good food and maybe a little of the magic he felt here this morning will lift their spirits.

“There might not be an answer, you know,” Dex says as they’re looking over their menus.

“Don’t say that,” Derek snaps.

“Nursey, today was – ”

“Today was _day one_ , Dex,” Derek interrupts, “Day fucking one, okay? I’m not giving up on you because I didn’t open a book and magically know how to help you, so shut the fuck up.” He punctuates his sentence with a pretty sharp kick to Dex’s shin. Dex chews on his bottom lip for a moment as he studies Derek, and for a second Derek’s terrified he’s going to start a fight, or leave, or say he doesn’t want this anymore. Dex just lets out a breath, calm and smooth, and kicks Derek back, albeit a lot lighter than the way Derek kicked him. Derek feels his jaw unclench and his lips quirk up into a smile. _It’s going to be okay_ , he thinks, _it’s just day one. We’ll figure it out tomorrow._

 

They don’t figure it out tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. Derek thinks his stress levels are peaking, and he has the nightmare every night, now. They’re changing, though. It’s still Dex, in pain, screaming for a helpless Derek, but now there’s fire, and smoke so thick Derek chokes on it, and a small, piercing voice that sounds like it’s saying, “ _William_ ,” over and over again. It wakes him up every night, crying and panting and shaking. He has to convince Dex that he’s always had night terrors, and that the dreams are about spiders.

 

Dex finally figures him out two days before they’re due to be back at Samwell. He shakes Derek awake, as is becoming routine, and says, “You said my name.”

Derek knows he knows. “Dex,” he tries, but Dex cuts him off.

“No, Nursey, your nightmares are about _me_ ,” he huffs, “Are they _all_ about me?”

There’s no point in lying now. Derek can’t meet Dex’s eyes as he nods.

“Am I…” he breaks off, starts again, voice soft and broken, “Do I hurt you?”

“No!” Derek exclaims, eyes snapping up to Dex’s face, “No, god, of course not! It’s – it’s not like that.”

“What is it like, then?” Dex asks.

“You’re in pain, and I’m there, and you’re screaming for me, asking me to help you, but I can’t move or talk. There’s, uh, fire everywhere. And someone keeps repeating your name.”

“Nursey,” Dex says softly, “It’s not your job to save me.”

“Well I’m going to fucking do it anyway,” Derek snaps, defiant. He brings a hand up to cup Dex’s cheek and repeats, “I’m going to do it anyway, okay?”

 

That morning, he comes back into Sonia’s living room after taking a bathroom break to find Sonia smiling at him consolingly, a cup of tea in her hands. He immediately looks over to Dex, who suddenly finds his shoes very interesting. He knows instantly what’s up.

“You told her?” He asks, though it’s more of an accusation than a question, really.

“Nursey, you have the nightmare every night!” Dex half-yells.

“Et tu, Brute?” Derek mutters under his breath.

“Enough,” Sonia orders, “Tell me about the dream.”

Derek recounts it for her, stopping periodically to answer her questions. By the end of it, Sonia looks even more rattled than Dex did when he heard it. She turns to Dex, asking something in rapid-fire Italian before she can think to translate it. At the blank look Dex gives her, she repeats, in English, “How much magic have you used with him?”

“Um,” Dex stalls out. He still hasn’t met Derek’s eyes from across the room. With that look on his face, Derek doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Dex whispers, “A little bit.”

“What,” he deadpans.

“It was only twice! Once on the ice, when I thought that goon from Yale was going to concuss you, and then, uh, once… not on the ice.” The last part of his sentence is so mumbled Nursey isn’t sure how he caught it.

“What did you do off the ice?” Derek asks.

He has to strain to hear Dex’s answer of, “I may have possibly given your moms the idea that they should spend Christmas at home this year.”

“You _Inception_ -ed my moms?” Derek screeches.

“No! I didn’t, like, _make_ them do it or anything. I just gave them a dream of how nice Christmas would be at home with you,” he says, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater.

“I can’t believe – ”

“It’s not like I forced them to do anything! They love you, sometimes they just forget that you need more than just phone calls and Skype,” Dex says, sounding defensive. Derek is ready to rear back, but Sonia holds a hand up to stop him before he can even speak.

“William, you know that they are tracking you,” Sonia says, and she sounds like she’s scolding him. He looks at Dex again and winces at how small Dex looks, curling into himself on the couch. He has the sudden urge to cross the room and hold him, to reassure him, to do _something_.

“I couldn’t help it,” Dex whispers, “It was for him.”

And, _okay_ , Derek thinks, he _has_ to go to him after that. He wraps Dex in his arms, feels the way Dex slumps into him.

“ _Piccolo_ ,” Sonia sighs, “No more magic, okay? You must promise me.”

“I promise,” Dex mutters into Derek’s collarbone.

“But what does that have to do with my nightmares?” Derek asks.

“They’re close. Close to William, which means close to you, as well.”

“ _They_?” Derek repeats, “The, um, the _things_ above Dex?”

“The Keepers, yes,” Sonia nods. Derek feels a shudder run through Dex.

“I’m not going to let them take you,” Derek whispers into Dex’s hair. “You hear me, Dex? You’re staying with me.”

Sonia bustles off to make them all fresh cups of tea before handing them each a new book to start going through. Derek bites back his sigh. He doesn’t want to bring the mood of the room down any more than it already is, but it’s hard not to notice the way most of the books in the “Possibly Helpful” pile have been transferred to the “Not Helpful” pile. They don’t even have a “Helpful” pile.

It takes Sonia kicking them out for them to leave that night, all of them painfully aware that they only have tomorrow before they have to go back to Samwell. She sends them home with a sad sort of smile and some tea that she says will help Derek with the nightmares. Derek puts _Goon_ on when they get home, brews the tea, and holds Dex as tight as he can until they fall asleep.

 

Derek wakes up from his dreamless sleep only feeling vaguely unsettled, and adds _Possible Potion Brewer_ to his list of reasons Sonia might be a witch. Dex is already awake, staring at the ceiling and stroking a hand down Nursey’s side.

“Last day before we go back,” Dex says absently.

“Yeah, well, I’ve always been pretty clutch,” Derek shrugs. It comes out a little hollow, but Dex must appreciate the sentiment because he’s leaning over and pressing a long, slow kiss to Derek’s lips. It feels like the culmination of all the emotions they’ve felt over the past week or so, and when Dex pulls back Derek feels like he got the wind knocked out of him.

 

Derek finds the answer approximately two hours into their last session at Sonia’s house. He has the immediate urge to shout something dumb like _Eureka!,_ but he bites his tongue as he remembers Dex’s words when they first started this thing. _‘If it’s dangerous to you in any way, we are not doing it.’_ Derek doesn’t know the specifics of this thing, but he knows it would be dangerous. He knows Dex would never go for it.

He carefully, silently dog-ears the page and slips the book under his leg, away from Dex. He picks up another book and pretends to rifle through it as he says, as casual as he possibly can, “Dex, could you go grab me a cup of water?”

Dex grumbles something about Derek being needy, but gets up and goes to the kitchen anyways. Derek knows Dex could hear him if he said anything, so he silently slides the book over to Sonia, eyes wide and finger pressed to his lips as he tries to communicate without speaking.

Sonia’s eyes are still raking the page as Dex comes back in, and Derek prays that she understands him, that she won’t say anything to Dex. He holds his breath as Dex sits down next to him, and he almost forgets to take the glass of water in Dex’s hand. Dex gets back to reading the book he was on, but Derek’s just watching Sonia as she finally raises her eyes to him and silently nods.

His heart picks up immediately. He can do it. He can save Dex. He can keep him here.

 

It’s hard to watch the disappointed sag of Dex’s shoulders when they get ready to leave, but he knows he can’t tell him. Sonia gives Derek her number and a significant look, and then promises that she will keep looking and will contact anyone who she thinks could help. She hugs them both, and when she pulls Derek in close she whispers, “Tonight,” in his ear.

 

Derek kisses Dex hard and long before they climb into bed that night. He doesn’t want to think about losing Dex, but he makes the kiss last as long as he can, in case it’s the last one. Convincing Dex to sleep isn’t easy, but he manages it. Slipping out of the bed, the room, and the apartment is even harder. He’s paranoid that he’s about to knock something over and wake Dex up and blow the whole thing, but somehow he gets out without so much as a creaky floorboard. He full-out runs to Sonia’s, calling her on the way to let her know he’s coming.

“ _Mio ragazzo coraggioso_ ,” Sonia coos when he’s at her door, pulling him into another tight hug, “My brave, brave boy. Are you sure?” 

“Never been more sure of anything,” Derek says, unwavering.

“Do you understand what will happen?” She asks. Taking his hesitation for a _no_ , she explains, “It is… difficult to explain what a soul is. It’s true that it is what makes us human, what separates us from demons. Throughout existence, however, there have been few who do not possess whole souls. They are one half of a pair.”

“Soulmates,” Derek says.

“Yes,” Sonia nods, “Some soulmates are born as two parts of a whole, but some are made. Kings who have sought out magic to bring back their deceased queens by transferring part of their soul, debtors who lost their soul finding redemption in friends donating a piece of their own soul, mothers and fathers giving parts of their souls to their children, the list goes on.”

“So I can give Dex a piece of my soul, and he’ll be human again?”

“Essentially. But I’m afraid the process is painful and dangerous, especially with the Keepers so close to both you and William,” she warns.

Derek grits his teeth as he says, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

It’s two hours of Derek sitting and anxiously waiting for Sonia to get everything perfect. His hands are shaking, and he keeps glancing back at the door, like Dex is going to come in and ruin the whole thing, or the Keepers will find him and kill them all. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or more nervous when Sonia finally tells him that everything is ready.

“Listen very carefully to me, Derek,” she says, “You must follow the instructions exactly, understand?”

He gives a jerky nod, and she goes on. She speaks in very simple terms, telling Derek exactly what to do and when to do it, but not exactly explaining much more. He thinks that’s better, though, so he doesn’t get confused. She repeats the directions twice more, and then Derek asks her to go over it one more time to be sure.

The drink – potion, it’s totally a potion and Sonia is definitely a witch and he totally called it – is sitting in front of him, and he’s about to reach out to it when he feels… _something_. He can’t put his finger on it, but it feels like the room has suddenly gone still in the worst of ways. He looks up at Sonia, and she doesn’t have time to hide the terror in her eyes.

“Derek,” she says, voice choked and watery, “Derek, you must hurry.”

There’s something, a voice in his head, telling him not to do it. It’s not his own voice, though. Not his own thoughts. He feels frozen in his spot, like he has to force his body to move, to obey his own commands instead of the command of whoever’s inside his head.

 _For Dex_ , he says to himself, and his arm moves towards the cup. _For Dex_ , and his hand is around it. _For Dex_ , and he’s bring it to his lips. _For Dex, for Dex, for Dex, for Dex_. He drinks. It’s getting even harder to move, now, but he fights through it. The knife is cold and heavy in his hand, and he has to focus on steadying his hand so he can carefully prick his finger. It feels like he’s going in slow motion as he presses the finger into the picture of Sonia laid in front of him – one Lardo took, of him and Dex on the ice, wrapped up in a celly. There’s a brief, hysterical moment where he’s sad that he’s ruining the picture. The voice in his head is getting louder, screaming at him to stop, but he knows he can push through. He recites the words Sonia taught him, enunciating and projecting as best he can. Two words in, it feels like his head has been split open, and there’s a searing pain all over his skin. He persists, fingernails dug into his skin as he continues. The pain just gets worse, though, radiating from his chest out to his every extremity, like being burned alive and frozen at the same time. Just before his last sentence, when he thinks he might not be able to hang on, he hears a door slam, and Dex’s voice yelling, “DEREK!”

 _For Dex._ He keeps going, as Dex slams into the living room.

 _For Dex._ He closes his eyes against the pain.

 _For Dex._ He finishes the sentence just as he feels Dex’s arms wrap around him.

 _For Dex_. He hears, “Derek, please,” just before everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a voice in his head - low, but growing clearer. It’s not the same one that was screaming at him – it’s softer, warmer. He strains to concentrate, to figure out what it’s saying, when he realizes it’s not in his head. 

“Yeah, doctor’s said he’ll be fine… Just dehydration from being sick… Yep, his moms are flying in… Probably a day or two, yeah… Okay… Yeah… Thanks, Jack.”

 _Dex_. Derek can feel Dex’s hand in his, now. He fights through the heavy fog that it feels like he’s in, finally opening his eyes to see Dex sitting at his bedside.

“Dex,” he croaks out, voice weak and scratchy.

“Derek,” Dex sobs, like he’s crying. Like he’s been crying for a while. “Derek, Derek,” he repeats, standing up and cupping each of Derek’s cheeks.

“I’m okay, Dex,” Derek reassures him.

“I told you,” Dex says, “I fucking told you not to do anything dangerous, Derek.”

“And I told you that I would do whatever it takes,” Derek whispers back. It’s then that Sonia comes in, holding two cups of coffee in her hand. She puts them down immediately when she sees Derek, rushing over to kiss him on both cheeks and coo at him in Italian.

“We did it?” Derek asks her, needing that confirmation.

“You did it, _ragazzo coraggioso_ , you did it,” she whispers. Derek feels his whole body warm with happiness, tugging Dex onto the bed and into his arms.

“Welcome back, Will,” Derek murmurs into Dex’s hair. Dex lets out a watery laugh. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?”

“No place I’d rather be, pretty boy,” Dex says quietly.

 

Dex spends half the time Derek is in the hospital cuddling him and the other half chewing him out for doing something so dangerous and not even telling him. Derek takes the yelling with a smile, because it always ends with Dex collapsing into his chest and kissing him.

Derek doesn't know if he's imagining it, but he's pretty sure Dex is warmer now. He's even prettier than he used to be, like someone smoothed over his hard edges. His eyes are softer, too, and it seems like there are even more freckles dotted across his cheeks. Derek's breath catches every time he looks at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek wakes up from a nap at one point on his last day in the holspital to Dex and Sonia talking in hushed tones.

He catches the tail-end of Sonia’s sentence, “- of course, I understand if you’d rather live – ” 

“No, no, of course I want to live with you!” Dex interrupts, “You’ve done so much, you’re already so important to Derek and I. You’re already family.”

“ _Piccolo_ ,” Sonia sighs, and Derek cracks his eyes open to see them hugging.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh man,” Derek says, reaching over to grab Dex’s hand on the train.

“What?” Dex asks, bringing Derek’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Now I get to write poems about how you’re my soulmate, and I won’t even be exaggerating,” he grins.

Dex groans, but he can’t even try to hide the smile on his face from Derek.


End file.
